Donnie trudged down the hallway past the few heavy-duty bedroom doors, gazing down at his device in his hands. It was his mutagen tracker that he seemed to work on endlessly. He had initially built it nearly a year ago, but even when he'd used it on their first mutagen mission, it had been nothing more than a prototype, always showing him more improvements that needed to be made. This time he was working on improving the accuracy of the radar after it had led them to a location as far away as a mile from the actual mutagen canister on numerous occasions.

Smack!

He collided with an obstacle that nearly knocked the device from his hands. A certain lime green and orange obstacle.

"Mikey!" He shouted, hastily trying to regain his grip on the tracker. Once it was secured, he glared at his little brother.

Mikey barely acknowledged him and rushed past him.

"Sorry, D..." he mumbled.

Before he could make it three feet, he was stopped by a grip on his shoulder.

"Hold it," Donnie said in his commanding 'parental' voice that Mikey so hated. "What do you have there?"

Mikey stuffed his hands behind his back.

"Nothing..."

Donnie groaned. "Seriously, I know you have something. Is that one of Sensei's pictures?"

"No!"

Donnie reached for his arm.

"What are you doing with that?"

"Nothing!"

"Mikey, stop being stupid!"

Donnie went to grab his good arm and pin him, but Mikey skillfully slipped from his grip and slid under his legs. He wasted no time to get back up and take off for his bedroom.

Donnie considered just letting him go and going about his own business, but his curiosity got the better of him and he chased after his scheming brother.

Three feet later, he was stopping Mikey's bedroom door mid-swing with his forearm.

"Don! Come on, dude!"

"If Sensei finds you with that, he's gonna kill you!"

Mikey released the door and made sure to try and hide the picture frame behind his back again.

"I don't know what...what-what picture?"

Donnie crossed his arms. "I didn't say anything about a picture."

April sighed. "Mikey, just let him in."

It was then that Donnie realized that April was perched atop Mikey's bed holding her laptop. A tinge of jealousy only further spiked his curiosity. Not only did it look like Mikey was hiding something, but he was hiding something with April. He dared think what might happen if he allowed them to go on without his interference.

"H-hey, April..."

Mikey plopped down beside her and stuffed the frame behind them.

"What do you want, Don?" Mikey demanded in a tone rather uncharacteristic to him. Donnie payed it little mind.

"I wanna know why you have one of Sensei's pictures."

April's eyes widened. "He saw you?!"

"No!" Mikey nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I mean...I thought I was pretty sneaky about it..."

"Oh god, Mikey," she groaned. "I already didn't like this idea."

Donnie was bewildered. "What idea?"

Mikey stared at April, begging her with his eyes to tell him what to say.

She sighed. "You might as well tell him."

Mikey looked pleadingly at his older brother.

"If I tell you, Donnie, you have to swear to me you won't tell anyone else," he said.

Donnie rolled his eyes. "Mikey, I can't promise that until I know what it is."

"Well I can't tell you until you give me your word!"

"Oh for Pete's sake, Donnie, just promise us you won't say anything!" April snapped.

Donnie was not about to deny April anything, so he nodded dejectedly.

Mikey raised his pinky and held it out. "Pinky swear?"

"I'm not gonna do that..."

Mikey shrugged. "Then I'm not saying a word."

"SENSEI!" Donnie shouted. "SENSEI, MIKEY'S GOT..."

Mikey swiped up his pillow with his good arm and chucked it straight at Donnie's face.

"Okay! Okay! Just...come here. We'll show you."

Something was going on with his youngest boy; that was something Splinter was certain of. The question was what – with repeated inquiries about his mother, his strange disappearances into his room for extended periods of time, and now he had just watched him run off with one of his pictures of his beloved wife.

This particular occurrence came as quite a shock to him. His boys knew from a very young age that they were never to touch his belongings. This was mostly because a lot of his personal belongings consisted of weapons that were dangerous, but it was also an issue of principle. He believed it to be respectful for a child not to handle their parent's belongings, especially sentimental ones, without permission. All of them, by now, were mindful of this.

Splinter had first thought to immediately confront him before Michelangelo could even leave the dojo, but had refrained. Maybe it would have been better to watch him and find truth in his actions rather than in the holes of some flimsy explanations. Nonetheless, the event still left him baffled – and worried.

It left him to wonder if his son was feeling isolated, or perhaps doubtful. Could it be possible that after the events of having found that Karai was his long lost daughter, that Michelangelo was worried about where he stood in his father's life? Perhaps his questions were to remind him, or more so himself, that they were still family as well.

The thought saddened and shamed him. If any one of his sons ever had any doubt that he loved and valued them as much as he does his own biological daughter, then he was a failure as a parent. Every single one of his children was precious to him regardless of whether or not he conceived them. Although, he could remember a time when he didn't think he could love anyone as much as his dear Miwa...

Splinter jumped the turnstiles into his home as quietly as he possibly could. He had left the boys while they were napping to go and get a few necessities.

He stopped to look around and listened carefully for any subtle sounds – namely anything that may indicate that one of the turtles had woken up. Just as he had dreaded, he heard the sound of a baby crying a few rooms away.

With a sigh, he dropped his sack by the entrance and went off toward the sound.

After baby-proofing it, he had locked the turtles up in the large room that had served as the bedroom for the new, small family. He made sure that they were asleep before he left, but he knew he'd be foolish to believe that they would stay that way the whole time.

By the time he crossed into the room that he had made into his dojo, he could tell that the muffled cries he was hearing was coming from only one turtle. He was fairly certain that he could pin-point which one it was: the tiniest one, Michelangelo or Mikey-bo as he had taken to calling him.

It's not that the little one cried frequently, at least not anymore than his brothers, it was that his keen hearing was accustomed to each of their cries by this time.

He slid open the shoji doors, and lo and behold, there was little Mikey sitting directly in front of the doorway with tears staining his freckled cheeks.

Splinter swiftly scooped him up.

"What is the matter, Mikey-bo?" He cooed.

The tot, of course, did not verbally respond. He only stared at the rat as his sobs subsided.

"Are you wet?"

Splinter turned him over and checked his diaper; he was dry.

The little turtle emitted a tiny giggle that took the rat by surprise. He turned him back over and sure enough, Mikey was beaming at him.

He smirked warmly. "I thought you were upset?"

Mikey squealed with mirth and grabbed tiny fistfuls of Splinter's fur. It didn't much hurt, but still Splinter firmly took his hands and removed them from his fur.

"Well if you are alright," he placed him back on the floor, "papa has things to do." He walked out the doorway. "Try and go back to sleep..."

"Naaaa-aaah!"

Big baby blue eyes filled with tears again as the turtle stretched his arms up toward to the rat, begging to be held again. He swiftly crawled back to his feet and clung to his kimono.

Splinter melted. This child wanted him? He had three bigger brothers to cuddle up with and seek comfort from, of which whom he'd been with since his own birth, and yet he specifically preferred his attention. No, doesn't want, but needs it.

"Oh come here," he cooed as he scooped him up into his arms.

As soon as he was within reach, Mikey hugged his tiny arms around Splinter's neck and nuzzled as close as he could get.

An overwhelming feeling of tenderness, warmth, and joy overtook Splinter – a feeling he hadn't felt since he first held his daughter, Miwa, and one he had thought he would never experience again. Could it be possible, he wondered, to love that much a child of which he did not conceive?

He pulled the turtle away to look at him again. Again, the baby's big blue eyes gazed at him with total adoration, his wide smile illuminating his endearing freckles.

Splinter tenderly kissed his tiny beak, which sent the tot into another fit of giggles when his whiskers tickled him.

He held him tighter against his hip and headed out of the room.

"Alright, my son, you win."

"You're gonna what?!"

"Oh come on, Don," Mikey whined, "haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to have grandparents?"

Donnie shook his head. "No...well – I mean, I've maybe wondered what it was like to have a mom, but a grandmother? Mikey that's just..." He sighed. "It's wishful thinking, bro."

"Donnie..." April began.

"But what's so impossible about it?"

Donnie scoffed. "Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that her son is now a six-foot-tall anthropomorphic rat? Even if you did get so far as to reunite them, the likelihood that she'll even recognize him is slim to none."

"Well..." April said.

"What about mother's intuition, dude?"

Donnie rolled his eyes. "Mikey, there's no such thing..."

"Guys!" April shouted. "Hold on for a second!"

Both turtles instantly seized their bickering, giving the redhead their full attention.

"Donnie, look, I totally get your skepticism, but I think we can make this work." She handed him the laptop. "Look, we already found her on myFace."

Donnie scanned over the elderly woman's profile and skimmed through her pictures. He took note of the familiar amber eyes and admitted in his mind that she certainly looked like she could be related to their father, but it wasn't until he skimmed over a certain picture at the very end of the album that his doubt completely dissolved.

There was a faded photograph of a dark-haired toddler in a bulging white diaper sitting on what looked like a linoleum floor with a dated floral pattern. All around him were large pots turned upside down and in his hand was a wooden spoon that he was chewing on through a mischievous smile. It was the classic baby picture that it seemed every parent had of their child, but it was the caption that made it stand out to him.

Rest In Peace my beloved Hamato Yoshi

February 1st 1969 – July 20th 1996

There was no doubt. That was his father's birth date as was the latter the day that his wife had died in the fire.

"Guys..." he whispered, "H-have you seen this?"

Mikey crossed his arms nonchalantly. "The baby picture? Yeah, we've seen it. I told you, dude!"

"Mikey already tried to contact her, but she didn't believe him," April went on.

Mikey plopped down beside Donnie and gestured to the frame in his hand.

"That's why we gotta show her this. I mean, how could anyone else have this picture?"

Donnie shook his head.

"Yeah, but, what are you gonna do when she wants to come here and see her long lost son? She can't see us. It'll give the poor woman and heart attack."

April smirked. "We've already got it covered."

As if on cue, Casey casually walked into the room and flashed his trademark, toothless grin.

"Someone call for a Mikey decoy?" he joked.

Donnie cringed. "Oh boy..."

Sayuri logged onto her myFace to see that she had another new message and to her surprise, it was from that 'Michelangelo' character again. After the response that so clearly indicated that she was not falling for whatever scam he was playing, she did not think he would have the nerve to respond. Nonetheless, she opened the message.

What was attached to that message, she never expected to see.

A poor quality cell phone image that took up most of her screen, popped up. Whoever had taken the photo was obviously lacking some sort of photo copier because it was literally a photo of a photo, but its contents were still clear. There was the long lost photo of her beloved son with his beautiful, newly-wed wife, his eyes focused on her in that loving way that she knew only to appear when he was in her presence.

She remembered that photo. It was one of the two that Yoshi had kept in his dojo when he was living. In fact, she remembered going to his dojo right after he had passed to retrieve those photos, but the dojo's caretaker informed her that the photos and many of his weapons had mysteriously disappeared seemingly overnight. She had suspected that Oroku Saki had come and taken them for himself before he too disappeared to cope with his own grief.

She then imagined a hypothetical situation in which this 'Michelangelo's' story was true. Is it really possible that Yoshi escaped his burning home? Perhaps, once learning that his wife and daughter were dead, he had made a snap decision to leave for America and start over and had taken his only remaining belongings from his dojo with him.

One thing she could not wrap her mind around, however, was her son leaving his parents in Japan without telling them that he was moving away. Why in the world would her son want her to go on believing that he was dead?

She needed answers.

"Okay, where did you get that photograph?"

Again, I'm sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up, but we're finally getting to the action! Hope you're all enjoying!